


three souls bound

by Rethira



Series: the coveted wind [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some soulmates are harder to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three souls bound

There’s a child hidden in the long grass. One of the goats snorts at it, noses the child carefully, and then bleats as it would to a new-born kid. The child laughs and reaches tiny hands up to grab at the goat’s face; it bleats again, this time in surprise, and moves back a few paces, tossing its head. By this time, the shepherd, an aging man named Fadin, has noticed the goat’s odd behaviour, and he ambles up the hill to discover the cause.

Fadin was _not_ , it must be said, expecting a babe barely out of swaddling clothes. He scoops it up out of the grass, settling it on his hip, and sets off back down the hill, weaving between the goats until he ends up by the shed. It’s past time for the goats to be birthing, but there’s always some milk set by, and anyway, the Lon Lon delivery only came in a few days ago.

Fadin sits down with a bottle of goats’ milk, tucks the child against his chest, and gets back to watching the goats.

He takes no particular note of the odd birthmark on the child’s hand.

 

Princess Zelda is eleven. Occasionally, she will find herself staring at the words that run along her father’s throat, and disappear behind his ear. He has let her read them; they say _a ship does not sail in inclement weather_ , and were the first words her mother ever said to her father. Father has never read them himself. In a mirror, they appear backwards, and there is no way for him to twist himself that he can read them.

In all of his portraits, his head is turned so that his words may be read, although in most of the portraits the only word that stands out is _inclement_. When Zelda was much younger, she used to trace that word on her father’s skin with her fingers, and he would laugh and say that it tickled.

Her mother had a crown emblazoned on her right shoulder; all her dresses were made so that it stood out. When she had been a pirate – or rather, a pirate _Queen_ , as Mother had always stressed – none of her clothes covered the mark, and it was both a sign of things to come and a sign of her _right_ to call herself _Queen_.

Zelda has her own mark of course, but everyone who knows of it tends to speak over head with great solemnity. They do not believe it is the same _kind_ of mark as those her parents have (had, in her mother’s case), and they point to the carvings and the Hylian coat of arms instead.

The mark of the Triforce. A sign that their fair Princess Zelda, who is not yet twenty, is bound for great things. She is blessed, they say. Blessed by the Goddesses.

Often, Zelda suspects that the mark on the back of her hand is why her Father never speaks of marriage for her. She suspects it is why Father looks towards her cousins, both pirate and royalty alike, who all bear words or symbols on their skin that _aren’t_ the sign of the Goddesses.

When Zelda begins to cover her hands, no-one tells her not to.

 

Each evening, his sisters sing. His sisters and his mothers, they all sing, wherever they are. He joins them sometimes, his voice rolling across the sands like distant thunder. None of his sisters have ever come to him and spoken of his voice as if it makes their heart race. He suspects that none ever will, for he is almost one and twenty, and still he has no understanding of it.

“You will know,” they say, “you will know.”

He has heard that in Hyrule, in the land of grass and wind, the people do not listen for each other’s voices, but for markings upon their skin. Birthmarks, like the one he has on his chest, or on his head or hand. It seems a foolish way of doing things; skin can be hidden, covered up. Skin can be changed. How would you know if they spoke the truth of their markings if you could not lay eyes upon it?

Voices cannot lie. Voices cannot be hidden or changed – voices are perfect.

When his sisters talk of him to Hylian traders, they call him the voice of the desert, and he wears that title with more pride than that of _King_.

 

Link is long grown before he sees anyone not human or Hylian. It’s a passing Goron; a pile of rocks one minute, and a walking, talking person the next. The children in the village squeal in delight over it, and the Goron is happy enough to entertain them.

“There’s good rock buried here,” it says, before using its hands like shovels to dig away the topsoil. Fadin clucks disapprovingly, but Link watches in fascination as the Goron breaks off chunks of rock as if it were honeycomb. The Goron hums happily as it eats, and when it’s finished fills in the hole.

When it turns to leave, the sun glints off a glittering stone in its back. One of the children goes to touch it, and the Goron catches their hand with its big hard one and shakes its head. “That’s not for you, little one,” the Goron says, kindly. One of the children, a girl with long ears like Link’s, asks why, and the Goron turns her wrist over until everyone can see the words written there. “The gem is like this for me,” the Goron says, its voice a gentle rumble.

“Oh,” the girl says, and she stares down at her words like they’re magic.

The children run around asking about the words or the marks on some of their skin, but after a few days their excitement fades, and they turn on to other things.

Link rubs his hand a little, but the goats need feeding, and there are better things to worry about.

 

The King is sick. He has been sick these past three years – years in which Zelda has grown from child to young woman, and the King is too sick to make note of it. When he looks at her, it is either to call for her to sit upon his knee as she has not since she was nine, or he does not recognise her at all. Soon, she knows, he will look on her and call her by her mother’s name.

There had been talk of naming a Regent in Zelda’s stead. The King is obviously unfit, and Zelda had been too young, they thought, but she had spoken out. The Princess Zelda rules, and waits to be named Queen.

In truth, she does not look forward to it.

She has not left Hyrule in longer than she can recall; the part of her that is her mother’s misses the sea, and the wind in her hair. She thinks of it often, remembers climbing the rigging and running barefoot over the deck, her mother chasing after her, scooping her into her arms and spinning them both around. They had been carefree, beautiful days. And now they are ended.

She does not tell her advisors, but she has started to dream of a future filled with sand and flame.

The mark on her hand begins to glow.

 

Few Hylians visit the desert. Traders for the most part, and even they spit at his sisters and call them _thieves_. They look at him with only slightly more respect, though they still sneer when they think he can’t see them. His sisters fight back with pride; thieves the Gerudo may be, but they are still the _best_ thieves. They are still worthy of respect.

But he cannot do that. He cannot wear the badge of _thief_ with pride, not when he is also King. Not when he is their voice. His mothers and his sisters should not be reduced to this. His _daughters_ should not have to live like this. The Gerudo should not have to be thieves, or bandits or murderers in the dark. His sisters should not have to crawl in the sand, while the Hylians walk above them.

His sisters should not have to brave the desert, when there is Hyrule.

He looks out over Hyrule’s rolling green hills, and the gentle wind in the trees makes his heart sing.

 

Lon Lon Ranch is silent.

Lon Lon Ranch has never been silent before. But now, the cows have ceased their lowing, there are no cuccos to see, and not even a single horse stands in the field.

Link draws his sword, grip tight on the hilt, and walks carefully towards the main house. The door’s hanging off its hinges, and there’s no-one to greet him when he enters; a shard of broken pottery crunches under his boots. The room is a mess – curtains torn down, plates smashed, and a fortune’s worth of Lon Lon Milk spilt on the floor.

There’s no sign of Malon or Talon, at least at first, but there’s a creak from upstairs and then a door opens. Malon peeks through, and she sighs in relief and quietly calls, “Link!”

Link hurries up the stairs towards her, but she shakes her head.

“Link, please,” Malon says, “you have to check the barn for me. There were monsters and this _bo_ -”

Link nods and leaves to check the barn. As he crosses from the house, he’s caught short by a low noise. Turning, he lays eyes on a huge black boar, easily twice the size of any he’s seen before. Its mad eyes roll in its head when it looks at him, and huge tusks protrude from its snout. It steps towards him, and Link can see the signs of prior injuries etched on its hide; scars mingle with fresh wounds, and arrows and broken spears protrude from its back.

The boar bellows and breaks into a charge; only a lucky roll to the side saves Link from being gored. The boar crashes into the barn wall. It steps back, shaking its head, and turns to look for Link, but Link has already moved – he jumps onto the boar’s back, one foot finding purchase against a broken off spear and the other balanced on its spine. He raises his sword and brings it down against the boar’s back. The boar almost throws him off, only a hastily flung out hand keeping him from falling, and then he raises his sword again and again until finally the boar collapses.

Link slips from its back at last – the boar moves again, struggling to regain its feet, but its injuries are too great. After a final, broken bellow, the boar finally goes still.

Link, panting, finally sheathes his sword.

Hidden behind the leather of his gauntlet, a triangle begins to glow.

 

Princess Zelda wears a veil for the King’s funeral; she is clad in white, where all the other mourners wear dark clothes. Her hands are covered, but the glow of her mark is enough to be seen through the cloth. It is a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

The Queen of the Zora attends; she stands between her consort and her Royal Guards, and nods her head to Zelda when they meet. “He was a good man,” she says.

The Goron Elders approach next. They bow to her and give their condolences – gentle, for all they are people of rock and stone.

There is no voice from the Kokiri, but they cannot live beyond their forest’s borders, so Zelda cannot fault them for their absence.

And then, finally, there comes the Desert King, cloaked in black. He holds himself tall, proud, and only dips his head slightly when he stands before her. “Princess Hyrule,” he greets, looking down at her.

“King Gerudo,” she replies, demurely.

His lip curls, and then he turns and stalks away from her. An insult, to be sure, but perhaps one she deserves. He may be the King of the Gerudo, but it is a title with no meaning beyond the desert borders. No other ruler recognises his sovereignty – to greet him as such is nothing less than mocking.

She stares after him as he leaves, and wonders if perhaps she has made a mistake.

 

She isn’t what he expected. Oh, he had heard of Princess Zelda, heir to Hyrule and all its territories, but all he had heard had been- well. It had been traders extolling her _beauty_. Merchants whispering over the paleness of her skin, the delicacy of her features; how sweet her voice was, and how gentle her eyes. The only scrap of information that seemed even slightly interesting was how they all agreed she was blessed by the goddesses, but none would say _why_ they believed that.

So he had painted a picture, of a naïve girl, valued for her softness and her face above anything else. A Hylian woman, who gladly moved aside when a man approached, and who greeted harsh words with a smile. A woman his sisters would call _weak_.

Instead, her eyes flicker when he greets her, and for a moment he is meeting the eyes of a desert viper. Then her gaze softens into pleasant, even _modest_ neutrality and she replies, “King Gerudo,” in a voice with all the sweetness of a fig.

He leaves her presence without waiting for dismissal, fury curling in his chest for the insult paid to him.

No, she isn’t what he expected.

He’s almost glad of it.

 

The boar is large enough that it could feed ten people, but its flesh is diseased and sickened; purple blood spills from its wounds, and Talon has to run behind the barn to throw up from the smell of it. Link wrinkles his nose a little, and when Talon comes back, gets him to help load the carcass into a cart and hitch one of the horses to it. The stallion’s ears slick back against his head, and his eyes are wide, but it calms when Link strokes its nose, and relaxes completely when Malon comes over and starts to hum softly. Malon hops into the cart with Link, and together they take the boar’s body almost halfway to Kakariko. Far enough away from the village and the ranch, and not near enough to Kakariko to be a nuisance to them – Link keeps a tight grip on his sword, even as he hauls the boar out of the cart.

A wolfos howls nearby, and the stallion raises his head from the grass, tense. Link hurries back into the cart, standing in the back of it now, glancing around. He pats Malon’s shoulder, and she urges the stallion around, back home. It must be a relief for the horse, and soon both the stench of the boar and the howls of the wolfos fade behind them.

Even so, Link doesn’t relax until they safely cross into Lon Lon Ranch.

 

Her coronation is held four days after the funeral; three days of mourning, to honour the goddesses. On the fourth day, life has begun again – the dawn of a new day.

She wears the veil for those three days, and on the fourth, she removes it, goes to lay it aside, but as she does a terrible tremor strikes the castle. Almost as soon as she stumbles, she is caught and held, by large, strong hands. King Gerudo. But he does not look to her.

Instead, his eyes are drawn upwards, and well they might be, for beyond the windows it is obvious something enormous moves.

There is a smile on his face, Zelda notices, and then he drops her to the steps and runs past her, toppling the throne just as a monstrous bird forces its head through the glass. The shards come crashing down towards her – there are screams behind her, but all Zelda does is raise her hand and the glass shatters harmlessly in the air above her.

King Gerudo has engaged with the bird in her distraction; not with his fists as one might expect of a barbarian, but with a sword. The bird screeches when the sword cuts into it, and batters its wings against the castle walls, but the glass around its head has now formed a jagged edged collar – the bird is trapped in a prison of its own making.

Zelda rises, and her guards hurry to her, and when they advance she stands amongst them, her own rapier in hand.

The Desert King smirks at her when she darts past him, raising his hand again-

It glows, she sees. His hand glows as hers does, and her surprise is so great that she loses her footing and stumbles against him again.

“Careful, Princess,” he says, his voice mocking.

She elbows him roughly aside, and replies, “This is not your battle, King Gerudo. You are our honoured guest, and you should not be fighting here.”

His features twist with anger, but any reply he might have made is lost to her, as she darts beneath the great bird’s stabbing beak and thrusts her rapier into its throat.

After a moment, its death throes cease, and Zelda steps from beneath it, blood staining her dress and sword. Her eyes flick to the Desert King, before she turns to her assembled people.

“I regret that we must postpone my coronation,” she announces. In the subsequent commotion, she sees the Desert King leave, and spares only a little thought for the glow of his hand.

 

He stands still as stone, unmoving, while the Princess tends to her people. She had been _magnificent_ \- still _is_ magnificent, dripping blood and smiling benevolently down on the Hylians. As wondrous as any of his sisters, as glorious as his mothers. She would have been at home amongst them – she _will_ be at home amongst them. Princess Hyrule, Gerudo thief. He can almost see it now.

Blessed by the goddesses, the merchants had called her.

He can see why. She will be a worthy opponent indeed.

His smirk widens, and he murmurs, “Let us see how you fare in our next battle.”

 

Fadin doesn’t like it, but he sees the point in it – he grumbles at Mayor Bumi, says the goats will fuss, and he’s not as young as he used to be, but eventually Fadin concedes.

There are too many monsters around for Link _not_ to go out with the patrols, especially after the incident with the boar.

“I don’t like it,” Fadin says, “but if you’re sure...?”

Link nods, smiling, and Fadin sighs. That evening, before Link leaves, Fadin arrives holding a carved wooden shield. “Take this,” Fadin urges, “and remember to whistle if you get in trouble.” He looks up at the other patrol members, and says, louder, “And you all listen out for his whistles. You all know what they sound like, so don’t go expecting him to shout for help.”

“We won’t,” Mayor Bumi replies, clapping Fadin on the shoulder. “Link’ll come back to you safe and sound, don’t you worry.”

“Hrm,” Fadin grumbles. Link smiles encouragingly and waves goodbye.

When the patrols return to Fadin, they shake their heads and lay Link’s sword at his feet. The old man sends them away, and goes to stand amongst the goats, and does not speak for a week after.

 

A monster incursion so deep into Hyrule is not to be taken lightly. But one that coincided so perfectly with her coronation? It cannot be coincidence.

The Royal Guardsmen seem to agree; they watched from the towers, and the bird did not come from the sky, not until the last moment, and then it was upon them before even a ragged warning cry could go up, and its feathers shone with magic and fire.

“A sorcerer then,” Zelda sighs, and her advisors shudder.

“But who would _dare_?” they ask. “Who would turn against our Princess?” They look to her hand reverently, and Zelda fights not to cover it.

Then one of them says, tremulously, “Perhaps... the Desert King?”

“Yes!” one of the others cries. “The Gerudo have always resented Hyrule!”

“Don’t be stupid,” another protests. “Why would they attack us from _within_ Hyrule? They can be easily captured here, while their desert offers ample protection-”

“Well who do you think it could be then?”

“I’m sure I don’t know-”

As they squabble around her, Zelda thinks on the King of the Gerudo. He had caught her before she had even begun to fall. And he had been smiling- not the smile of one exhilarated by battle, no. The smile of one who is tasting success at last.

And the glow of his hand- well, she had mistaken it for the match of her own, but it could have been magic. It could easily have been the last traces of magic.

Yes, she thinks. It could have been King Gerudo- Ganondorf, to give him his name.

It could be him.

 

It is good that she is not yet Queen, it is good that she delays. It is good that she searches for monsters beyond the castle walls. It is good that she does not yet look within them.

She was magnificent, yes, and she will be a worthy opponent.

But she has not lived in the desert. She has not been a thief in the night, searching for the slightest opening. She has not _lived_.

And so Princess Zelda cannot see what is obvious.

She should never have let him past the castle gates.

 

Link wakes up loosely tied to a fence, a Bulblin squinting at him. He jerks away from it, lashing out with his foot, kicking the Bulblin square in the face. It goes flying backwards, knocking into some other Bulblins, and that gives Link the distraction he needs to twist free of his bonds and jump to his feet. He’s vaulted the fence and started running before the Bulblins even get back to their feet, and long gone by the time they reach their pig-like mounts.

Even so, Link doesn’t stop running. As he hurtles through the undergrowth, branches scratch his face and catch at his clothes, but Link hardly notices them. He jumps a fallen log and lands hard, falling to his knees, but then he’s back on his feet again, still running, the forest coming alive with alarmed birds and animals. He runs and runs and runs, until finally, _finally_ , Link collapses against a tree stump, breathing hard.

“I wouldn’t sit there if I were you,” a sing-song voice says.

Link tenses immediately, reaching for a sword he doesn’t have. His hand closes on air, and drops to his side; Link gets to his feet, legs shaking a little, and looks anxiously around.

“Aren’t you going to ask who I am?” the voice asks.

Link shakes his head.

“Why not?” the voice asks. “Don’t you want to know?”

Link shakes his head again.

Now the voice sounds angry. “You shouldn’t be here! You don’t even want to play!”

Alarmed, Link steps back, tripping over the tree stump. He tumbles head over heels, and the voice starts laughing.

“You looked really stupid just then,” it says.

A second voice comes. “Stop teasing them,” this voice says. “They’ll go soon anyway.” The voices start to fade away.

Link scrambles to his feet again, shaking his head – he can’t call out to them, so he just whistles, as loud as he can.

There’s silence for a moment after, and then scared bird cries and _more_ voices, all sorts of voices, babbling all around him, and then-

“Ho, what was that?” _This_ voice is deep, much, much deeper than the other voices, and seems to be coming from the tree behind Link.

The first voice speaks up. “It’s this strange human, Great Deku Tree! It woke you up!”

“Oh-ho?” the deep voice says. “Let me see this human, then.”

And to Link’s amazement, the tree slowly opens _eyes_ and squints down at him curiously. A face appears in the aged bark, and the tree breaks into a smile.

“Ah, but young Saro,” the tree says, “this is no human! This is a Hylian! And one a long way from home as well, if my eyes do not mistake me. Come now, little Hylian, come closer so that I can get a better look at you.”

Link creeps a little closer to the tree, careful not to get too near.

The first voice, Saro, pipes up again. “It came from the other side of the forest, and it won’t talk.”

The tree blinks, still smiling. “Don’t make such a fuss, Saro. _This_ Hylian means us no harm. See, he carries no axe or sword. You can all come out now,” the tree says, and after a moment, little heads start poking out from every push and branch around him- even the ground in front of Link shifts, to reveal a child dressed in green.

“I still don’t like you,” the child says grumpily, in Saro’s voice.

Link shrugs a little, at a loss.

The tree laughs happily enough, its branches rattling with it. “Now, welcome young Hylian. I am the Great Deku Tree, and these are my children, the Kokiri. This is our forest.”

 

There is peace for a week; the Zora and Gorons return home, grateful for the guards Zelda assigns them, and full of apologies for not remaining longer. Queen Luela bows her head as she leaves, and says, “You may call upon the Zora if ever you need us, Princess Zelda.”

Gor Darmus nods, and agrees, “And the Goron too, Princess!”

Ganondorf does not leave.

The only reason he offers is this; that he likes to fight the strong, and if there is war coming to Hyrule, then he should like to see it.

“We hope there will not be war, King Gerudo,” Zelda says, coolly.

Ganondorf smiles. It is not a nice smile. “Of course not, Princess,” he replies – and she has to wonder if he is feigning innocence or if it is real.

“What of your people?” Zelda asks.

Ganondorf throws his head back, laughing. “They can take care of themselves. My sisters are formidable warriors, Princess; they have no need for me to return to them.”

“Will they not miss you? You name them your sisters, and yet in the same breath, you say they will not care if you do not return.”

Ganondorf laughs again – when Zelda makes to walk past him, he turns, and offers her his arm, as if he is her courtier. “The bonds forged in the desert are not so easily broken,” he assures her.

“No,” Zelda says, “I imagine they are not.”

She is not unduly surprised when a frantic soldier rouses her, some little time after moonrise, and reports that a monster has risen from the depths of Lake Hylia.

King Ganondorf makes as if to ride out beside her, his stallion already saddled, but she stops him with a look, and leaves him standing, quite alone, at the gates to her castle.

Perhaps this will be her mistake.

 

 

She is magnificent, yes, but still a fool.

The second her hair, trailing in the wind like a banner, fades from his sight, he turns and sweeps back into the castle hall – there is no resistance here, none whatsoever, even as he marches up to the throne that was hers and tosses it aside.

And here, at the seat of Hyrule’s power, he raises a mighty barrier, and summons monsters to go with it. The flags on Hyrule castle shimmer and change, until they fly Gerudo colours, and he sets a cry across the land – Hyrule is _his_ now.

It’s _pathetic_ , how easily Hyrule falls.

Zelda will know soon. He doesn’t doubt that. And she will ride back- back to him, and lose her soldiers to his monsters, until it will be just her stood against him, and when _she_ falls-

He frowns, but that is when the meagre castle guard stage their first, pitiful attack upon him, and he dismisses the thought entirely.

Hyrule will be his. For his sisters, for his mothers, for the _Gerudo_.

For Hyrule’s blessed, life bringing wind.

 

The Great Deku Tree gives Link new clothes – “I am afraid they only come in green, child,” the Deku tree laughs – and Saro leads Link to the forest exit, scowling all the way.

“I don’t like you at all,” Saro grumps, and then one of the other Kokiri comes running up behind them, dragging a sword twice her size behind her.

“Wait! Saro! Link!” she drops the sword with a clatter, and jumps up and down, her fairy bobbing above her head. “The Great Deku Tree said to give you this!”

Link bends down and lifts the sword up. It’s longer than his old sword, but lighter too, and it feels... right. He smiles and pats her head in thanks.

Saro stomps. “I don’t get it!” he announces. “What’s so great about this guy?”

The Kokiri girl laughs, and grabs Link’s hand. She turns it over, until they can all see the back of Link’s hand. It glows, even through his gauntlet. “It’s this, silly! The Great Deku Tree says it means he’s been blessed by the Goddesses!”

Saro’s scowl gets deeper, and then he stomps away, huffing like a grumpy billy goat. Link waves goodbye to him, pats the Kokiri girl’s head again, and walks out of the forest. They couldn’t point him back home, but the Great Deku Tree said that someone in Hyrule was bound to know where he came from.

As Link runs out of the forest, he doesn’t notice a brigade of soldiers riding across the ridge above him; one of the riders pauses, staring down at his lone figure, as he runs back the way they came, but she can’t stop here; there are more pressing matters ahead, and they must be dealt with.

 

There are screams all around her – a soldier lying face down in the water, blood slowly staining the water red about them, another soldier scrambling away, dragging their limp partner behind them. And the monster-

A many headed serpent, with fangs as long and sharp as her sword, and clever eyes.

Zelda darts forward, past the snapping jaws of one head, and under another. She thrusts her sword deep into the snake’s neck, and the heads thrash about her. One of them turns, and faster than she can see, it strikes.

“Princess!” one of her guards screams, but it’s a distant noise, faint over the rushing in her head. Who ever knew that blood could be so loud?

The snake thrashes again, and then she’s soaring through the air, and the stars shine bright above her head, as bright- no _brighter_ than the mark on her hand.

She hits the water, and Zelda knows no more.

 

When she doesn’t return, he storms through the castle, tearing tapestries from the walls and throwing paintings to the ground. The monsters flee from him – the few, terrified Hylian guards barricade themselves in a room, but he takes little note of it.

She wasn’t meant to _fail_.

She was meant to come back.

She was meant to _fight_ \- to try and take Hyrule back!

She was-

A snarl of fury escapes him, and he punches straight through a wall. He stands, panting, in the debris, and suddenly notices the bright, almost glaring shine coming from the back of his hand.

It’s his birthmark- one of them, anyway, not that he ever paid particular attention to any of them, but this one- now it _glows_. The mark of three triangles, and yes, it had always been strange compared to the others; marks on his chest and forehead, great, scar-like marks, shockingly pale where the rest of his skin is dark. He’s always ignored them, never seen any need to pay attention to marks that have no meaning, no point, but-

But it’s _glowing_.

This- this is- this isn’t. His hand is _shining_ \- and he _recognises_ this mark now, this birthmark he’s never cared for before, he knows this mark because it’s _everywhere_ , every wall, every pillar, even his _bedclothes_ have it, and he doesn’t know _why_.

He storms back through the corridors, back to the door the Hylian guards have kept shut, and he forces it open, rips the door off its hinges and grabs the nearest quailing man he can.

Raising his hand, he growls, “What is this?”

The soldier’s eyes go wide and terrified, and he breathes, “ _Triforce_.”

 

As Link approaches the walled town, he can see streams of people leaving. They look at him suspiciously as he continues towards the town – some even stop and say, “You don’t want to go that way, boy,” or, “Turn back, boy, there’s nothing there for you.”

Link just shakes his head, and pushes past them. He doesn’t even know the way home, but someone here should, and even if they don’t... there’s _something_ wrong here. It’s like that time one of the goats died, right there out in the field, but it stood standing on its legs and the other goats shifted and shuddered and fear lay tense in the air. It’s like panic in the herd, and Link can’t just ignore it.

When he reaches the town gates, a woman comes running past, crying, “She’s dead! She’s dead!”

No-one else looks around, and the woman is gone before Link can try to ask.

Inside is even worse; there are people on the streets, but they all look scared, and half are making for the gates. The animals are scared too. Dogs are barking and snarling, cats yowling. A horse rears in panic, bolting away from its owner, and the man just throws a rock after it, cursing.

“Worthless creature!” he shouts, and then he turns to his family and they pick up the packs the horse was carrying and hurry away.

Link sidles into a dark corner. He isn’t going to find his way home from here. He could leave; Fadin will be worried. But.

Fadin would want him to come home, Link is sure. But Fadin would understand that Link can’t just leave; like he couldn’t leave when the storm came, but Mara was birthing, and he couldn’t let the flood water wash goat _and_ kid away. He couldn’t leave then, and he can’t leave now.

Link nods to himself, and then he carries on deeper into town, toward the castle that towers over everything.

 

Someone slaps her face, and Zelda abruptly wakes up, coughing water.

“Oi,” a voice says, harshly, “you alive?”

Zelda blinks. The owner of the voice is a dark skinned woman, with flame-red hair. Gerudo. Zelda nods jerkily.

The woman nods sharply, and speaks in a clipped tongue. More Gerudo appear, and the woman says, “You are injured. We shall move you. It will hurt.”

Zelda nods again, and bites her lips to keep from gasping when the Gerudo lift her. Her eyes shut again; it’s so bright, too bright, and now she can feel her flesh pulling with each movement, and it sends a sickening roil through her stomach – and when she opens them, she’s in a thankfully dark room. The Gerudo woman leans over her again, touches her face, and says, “You were bitten.” She touches where the wound is. “Here. My mothers are brewing a potion. You will regain your strength.”

And then she’s gone, and Zelda is left with naught but the flickering torchlight and the dark, cracked ceiling above her.

After a time, Zelda falls into a deep sleep. Her hand glows. She does not dream.

 

There are books in Hyrule’s library. They talk of this _Triforce_ in hallowed terms; the gift of the Goddesses. Where they left this world, a sacred relic, a _doorway_. But they all agree – it will grant the wish of whosoever touches it.

He cannot rip his mind from that thought. A wish. One single wish.

The life-giving wind of Hyrule... it could belong to the desert. One wish, and he could change _everything_. No more would the Gerudo be thieves, murderers, assassins in the night. No more-

But the Triforce is not whole. Has not been seen whole, for more years than can be counted. It was broken apart, the books say, into three pieces. And those three pieces were scattered, and no-one knows to where.

Power, wisdom and courage. The pieces of the Triforce.

His hand glows with _power_. He has been blessed- and now he knows what those traders meant, all those years ago.

For Zelda too must hold a piece of the Triforce, whether she knows it or not. Blessed by the Goddesses, and they all _knew_ , from the mark on her hand.

He wonders which piece she has.

He doesn’t recall that Hylians bear their soulmate’s mark on their skin.

 

There is no-one at the castle gate – a magic barrier fizzles lightly when Link passes through it, but it doesn’t hurt him. It just tingles a little, and earths in the sword the Deku Tree gave him. He pushes open the front door, and almost immediately shuts it again.

On the other side of the door, a monster snarls. Link peeks around the door again; the monster isn’t looking in his direction. It’s like a Bulblin, but larger, with a more pig-like nose. A large spear is clenched in its hand, and it stomps past the doors, growling and snarling all the while. It doesn’t notice when Link sneaks in behind it, and Link hurries down a corridor in the opposite direction.

There are more monsters down there, but they fall easily to Link’s sword, and it doesn’t take long for Link to fight his way deeper into the castle.

It’s a wreck.

The walls are dented here and there, and portraits and wall hangings torn to shreds – like some great monster tore through it, uncaring of what it ruined or broke. Link shudders when he sees a wall, completely caved in, and turns away completely when he sees smeared blood on the floor.

A door creaks ahead of him, and Link instantly ducks behind a pillar. None of the monsters have known how to use doors... so far. He can’t be too careful, and anyway, Link can’t imagine anyone really living in here-

A man comes out of the room. He’s tall, the tallest man Link’s ever seen, and he looks around as he exits the room. In the brief glimpse Link gets, he sees madness in the man’s eyes- the same madness as the boar’s, and he shudders as he crouches down behind the pillar. The man’s boots thump away from him, around a corner, and into silence. Even so, Link doesn’t move. His grip tightens on his sword, and then, very slowly, Link creeps back the way he came.

That man is probably the source of the people’s fear. The panic in the herd – everyone’s afraid of catching his madness, like the horses and cattle at Lon Lon Ranch had been.

That man is the cause, but this isn’t like the boar. The boar had to be stopped.

But maybe the man can be saved.

 

The Gerudo woman calls herself Abēru; Zelda’s tongue trips over her own name, and she says, “You may call me Petra,” instead. Her mother’s name.

Abēru’s eyes narrow. “Very well,” she says, and then she helps Zelda out of bed. The elder Gerudo, the people Abēru had called her mothers, they had fed Zelda a foul tasting brew, promising that it would aid her healing, and rubbed ointments into the wound itself. The flesh had begun to knit itself together again, and the elders had cooed over her strength approvingly. It still hurt though, and the wound was raw to the touch, so they had wrapped Zelda’s stomach as well.

Abēru doesn’t help Zelda to the door; it is her own pride that keeps Zelda from asking for aid. She clings to the doorframe, and covers her eyes against the glare of the sun. Beside her, Abēru snorts, and speaks in the strange Gerudo tongue again. She turns to Zelda afterwards, and says, “I have told my sisters you are called Petra,” and even as she says it, Zelda knows that they can all hear the lie.

She bows her head. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

Abēru snorts. “No thanks are needed here, Hylian.”

“Yet I give them anyway,” Zelda replies. “Forgive me, but I must ask. I have heard that you have a King here-”

Abēru’s expression shifts. “No,” she says. “Our King has left us.”

Zelda pauses, before she asks, “When will he return?”

Abēru lifts her face to the sun. “When he is ready to return to us. He knows that we will always welcome him.” She smiles. “Our voice can never leave us for long.”

Zelda murmurs, “A man may leave the desert, but the desert never leaves the man.”

It startles a smile out of Abēru, and she laughs warmly. “You have a good voice, Petra,” she says. “You should not lie with it.”

Zelda watches her leave. After a moment, she goes back inside.

 

He is certain now that Zelda lives. None of the soldiers who went with her survived; even the ones who staggered back to the castle have succumbed to their wounds. But _Zelda_.

She will have survived. Blessed by the Goddesses. A desert viper, hiding her scales in Hylian finery. Yes, she will have survived, he can _feel_ it. The Goddesses would not let her die.

And wherever she is, she will come back to him.

It is the _other_ one that concerns him now. The Triforce comes in three parts; he holds one, and Zelda must have another. But the third? Certainly none of the other rulers held it. He would have known, he would have _seen_. Whoever they are, they should have shown themselves by now, and yet.

And yet they have not. They are still hidden from him, unknown, unseen, and _power_ will not help him find them.

He is _so close_. Soon, Zelda will come to him. And that will be two of the three, the Triforce nearly complete. But until he has the third, it will be useless. Worthless.

He _has_ to find them.

 

As he’s leaving, Link spots the horse that bolted earlier – it’s still now, shuddering slightly, huddled away from the crowds on the street. He breaks out towards it; the horse retreats a little, eyes rolling with fear, but like the stallion before her, this mare relaxes when Link gently strokes her nose.

She nickers softly, pressing her soft nose against Link’s hand, and all the tension drains out of her. Link hums the song Malon was always singing, and the mare’s ears prick up, and she nuzzles against Link’s shoulder.

He smiles up at her, and thinks, _I’ll call you Epona_.

Epona huffs, and tugs playfully at Link’s hat, and when he finally goes to ride her, she stands still and calm as anything. He pats her neck, and gently urges her out of the town gates. They peel off from the road, long before anyone else. He still doesn’t know where to go, but there’s got to be _something_ that will help that man, and he doesn’t think it’s in this town. Maybe he could ask the Deku Tree again? That seems like a good idea, Link thinks, so he turns Epona towards the forest.

There’s another horse on the road there – a huge grey, decked in armour. Its flanks are shuddering, and it flees when Epona draws near, so it takes Link a good while before he manages to grab the grey’s trailing reins and reach over to calm it. This horse hasn’t come from the forest. Actually, it looks like it came along the river – when Link squints, he can see hoof prints dug into the mud around the river’s banks. It’s as good a reason to follow the river as any, and anyway, Link feels bad about leaving the horse all by itself. It actually follows him and Epona, although the closer they draw to a huge lake, the further back the grey hangs.

It doesn’t take Link long to find out why.

 

The Gerudo do not dissuade her when Zelda walks into the desert. Abēru gives her water, and Zelda doesn’t know what she has done to deserve such a gift. They watch Zelda leave; a short time later, Zelda hears their voices rise in song. She cannot sing as loudly as they can, and she doesn’t know their song, but there was a lullaby her mother sang, and she sings it now, as best she can.

The wind whips the sand around her, and it turns bitterly cold as the sun finally dips below the horizon. She should turn back – return to Hyrule, where the wind is never harsher than a breeze. She should return to the sea, to the wind her mother loved. She should return to her people. They must think her dead, and if- if she was right, and Ganondorf _was_ the source of the monsters, then she has left him Hyrule, to do with as he pleases.

But the glow of her hand leads her deeper into the endless sands instead.

Here is the key. Here, in his homeland, Zelda will find how to stop him.

 

He reads the books again. He questions the guards, and then he takes the scholars, from where they’re fleeing to Kakariko, and he questions them, and then he reads the books again.

Over and over and over.

There is no sign of Zelda.

There is no sign of the other one.

There is _nothing_.

There is nothing there is nothing there is nothing there is nothing there is-

As the last, scattered people hurry away from Hyrule Castle Town, they hear a great, angered bellow.

The gates clang shut behind them.

 

Link yanks Epona back just as the snake’s jaws snap shut ahead of them. Another head bursts from the water, and then a third and a fourth. A fifth even, but it hangs limp and lifeless, broken, so Link spurs Epona towards it and jumps from her back. The snake’s heads hiss in agitation when he lands on the dead head; the nearest curves towards him, trying to snap him up, but Link jumps and brings his sword down between its eyes.

He slips off the snake’s head as it thrashes, and the other heads writhe too – their distraction provides him with the perfect opportunity to kill another head, and then there are just two left. They slip below the water again, and when they strike it is lightning fast – too quick for Link to do anything except jump out of the way. And then he trips, stumbles, almost into the lake, and only a quick scramble back up the shore keeps him from being snake food.

His hand bumps against something wooden. He looks down, just briefly – it’s a bow, and there, only a few metres away, is a quiver. As he dodges the next strike, Link scoops bow and arrows up, spinning around to fire an arrow directly into one of the snake’s eyes. It _shrieks_ , and both heads thrash, and then it’s only the work of minutes for Link to dart in and swiftly kill them.

The snake’s body finally goes still, and Link slowly falls to his knees, panting quietly. Epona trots up behind him and nuzzles the back of his neck. Suddenly, she raises her head, and her ears flick towards a pile of rocks, a little way back from the lake shore. There’s a clink of armour, and then a groan.

Link pats Epona gently, and slowly picks his way over to the rocks. There’s a soldier, mud caked all over his armour, and he stares blearily up at Link.

“Zelda,” he croaks. “You must save Princess Zelda!”

 

The Gerudo do not greet Zelda upon her return; some look up from their chores as she passes, and the guards watch her intently but do not stop her. She sweeps through the fortress, until she stands before Abēru, and then she asks, “Will you teach me the song?”

Abēru appraises her, looking Zelda up and down, and then turns to the other Gerudo. One of them asks, “First, tell us what the desert showed you. Then we will decide.”

“I saw nothing in the desert,” Zelda replies. “I saw nothing, and yet I heard your song sweep across the sands, and then I knew.”

“I wonder if you do, Hylian,” the Gerudo murmurs, smiling.

Abēru shakes her head and says, “I will teach you, but we must have your real name first, Hylian.”

Zelda nods slowly. Clutching her glowing hand, she looks up and says, “I am Zelda, Princess of Hyrule.”

That gives Abēru pause for a moment, but then she says, “I will teach you then, Princess Hyrule. But you must be aware – our King desires your return. We will not let you run.”

“I do not intend to run,” Zelda replies.

Abēru smiles.

 

She is coming.

 

After a while, the river the soldier told him to follow leads into a canyon. Link dismounts and leads Epona carefully down it. The only sound is the steady clip-clop of her hooves, and the rushing water of the river, and even that slowly eases. It’s getting hotter, and the river slows and widens, until it’s shallow enough that Link barely even gets his ankles wet to walk in it.

And at the shallowest point of the river, where it finally drains away into a trickle, there is a little wooden bridge spanning the canyon walls. Link leads Epona towards the shadowed canyon wall, and peers up at the bridge – if he squints, he can just about see a few little figures standing on it. He can’t see anything about them from this distance, and certainly not if one is this Princess Zelda or not, but they’re definitely up there, so that’s where he has to go too.

A quick glance around reveals a rope ladder hanging down one side of the canyon; Link hurries over there, and starts to climb. Epona follows, and stands anxiously at the bottom of the ladder, craning her head upwards to watch him. The people at the top of the canyon don’t seem to notice as he climbs – it isn’t until Link clambers over the edge that someone cries out; a troop of women hurry over to him, spears raised threateningly.

“Who are you?” one of them asks. When Link doesn’t answer, they bare their teeth at him, and jab their spears more pointedly. Link ducks underneath one, grabs it, and yanks it out of its owner’s hands, before tossing it to the canyon below. The woman looks very surprised for some reason.

“We don’t have time for this!” one of the other women shouts; Link can hear the distant clatter of hooves over stone. The woman he stole the spear from tries to tackle him, but he dodges, and then has to catch her before she tumbles over the edge. He shoves her back against her friends, and runs towards the bridge, and that’s when the horses turn the corner and come galloping towards him.

“What?!” someone shouts, but Link isn’t really paying attention to that, too busy jumping out of the way of flailing hooves.

He looks up briefly, and sees a banner of gold hanging in the air – hair, long hair whipped up by the rearing horse, and the person it belongs to is staring at him with wide, surprised eyes. Their eyes only meet for an instant though, and then Link rolls again, and comes up beside a horse, and oh, it’s _her_ -

“Who-” she starts.

“Zelda!” one of the other women shouts, and she turns her head, and Link thinks, _oh, so_ this _is Zelda_.

He jumps onto her horse, slipping neatly between her and the horse’s neck, and whistles like he did in the Deku Tree’s forest, and the horse rears again and bolts forward. It hits the bridge, and down below, Link spots Epona wheeling around, ready to chase after him, and he grins widely while the Princess clings to his back.

They run.

 

The boy – youth, the youth in green won’t answer any of Zelda’s questions. He pushes the horse to its limits, until they’re far out of Gerudo land, and by then a second horse has appeared and is keeping pace with them. The youth greets it with a friendly whistle, and the second horse neighs in response. Only then does the youth let their exhausted mount slow; when it finally comes to a stop, he scrambles down, pausing only to pat its heaving sides. And then he’s off to the other horse, and up on it in seconds. He holds is hand out to Zelda, an obvious request if not a verbal one.

“You haven’t answered my questions yet,” she says.

The youth shrugs, his hand still outstretched.

“Very well,” Zelda sighs, dismounting, and as soon as she accepts the youth’s hand, he hauls her up. He turns the horse until they’re pointed for Lake Hylia – she frowns, for surely the serpent must still be there, but the youth doesn’t listen to any of her requests to head away from the lake.

When they arrive, she finally sees why.

The serpent’s corpse is still spread in the shallows; red-purple blood stains the water around it. There are clear sword marks still left on the body – an arrow even protrudes from one enormous eye.

The youth doesn’t look at all surprised. Zelda asks, “Did you do this?”

He nods decisively, and guides his horse down to a small pile of rocks. There’s a soldier lying beside them, still and silent, and the youth hops to the ground and pats the soldier’s shoulder tentatively. When nothing happens, he looks up at Zelda and points to the soldier, and then to her, and then to the river that she knows leads to the desert.

“He told you to find me?” she asks, after a moment.

The youth nods again.

Zelda pauses. Finally she asks, “Can you speak?”

The youth shakes his head.

Sympathetically, Zelda asks, “Is there anyone who can speak for you?”

At this, the youth’s face breaks into a wide grin, and he clambers astride his horse again. They ride for the forest, and at last recognition blooms in Zelda’s chest.

“You were the one I saw before,” Zelda says. The youth turns a little, as if to show that he’s listening. “As I rode for Lake Hylia – I saw you, leaving the forest.”

He nods again, and they ride in silence the rest of the way.

 

When he hears that she’s been _kidnapped_ and by a _boy_ , a _child_ no less, he all but tears the castle apart in his rage.

 

The Great Deku Tree is very happy to see Link again. He even laughs happily when he sees who Link’s brought with him, and says, “Oh-ho, if it isn’t the Princess Zelda! My my, Link, you do know how to make friends!”

Link grins in response.

“Your name is Link?” Princess Zelda asks, tentatively.

Link nods to her, and the Deku Tree says, “Of course it is, Princess. I would not call him by a name not his own.”

“Ah, forgive me,” Princess Zelda murmurs. “I meant no offence. It is simply that I did not know his name until you said it.”

“You should pay more attention, Princess,” the Deku Tree says.

She tilts her head, as if in confusion.

“Look at his hand, Princess,” the Deku Tree says, kindly.

She takes Link’s right hand, and all the Kokiri giggle.

“Not that one, stupid,” Saro says, rudely, “his other hand.”

Link holds out his other hand, and Princess Zelda gasps. “Is this-”

“Yes,” the Deku Tree says. “Link is the holder of the Triforce of Courage.”

“And my-”

“Yes,” the Deku Tree agrees.

Link glances anxiously between them, wanting to ask. The Deku Tree must realise, because he smiles, and says, “Perhaps you should tell him everything you know, Princess.”

“I- yes. But- the Desert King, Ganondorf. Is he also...?” Princess Zelda asks.

“There are three parts to the Triforce,” the Deku Tree says, “and so there are three people too.”

“Of course,” Princess Zelda says, absently. “Of course.”

 

Link looks up at her with guileless eyes. He’s confused, she can see that now. Confused, and wide-eyed, and if she hadn’t seen him dodge the flailing hooves of frightened horses, and hadn’t seen the body of the serpent, she’d never believe that he could possibly be-

But he is, of course. He’d even taken the leather gauntlet off, and his mark shone even brighter than hers. He’d made a loud, happy noise when she took her glove off, and placed her hand over is. A part of her feels guilty – he’s almost childlike in his delight, and it seems... wrong.

“Do you know what these mean?” she asks.

Link nods after a moment or two. He looks over to the Deku Tree, and after another few moments, one of the Kokiri sits down next to Link, clutching a wooden board and a little stick of charcoal.

Link writes _goddesses_ on it, in surprisingly legible handwriting.

Zelda smiles slightly. “In part, yes. But amongst Hylians, marks such as these – symbols, or words – they mean people who are... meant to be together.”

Link tilts his head a little, frowning, and then scribbles _it’s for you?_

“That is one way of putting it,” Zelda allows. “But you see, for us – my hand glows here, and yours glows there.” She touches Link’s hand and he shivers a little, but doesn’t pull away. “And there is someone whose hand glows here.” She points to the dull triangle on both their hands. “And this is also for them.”

Link writes _do you know who they are?_

“Yes,” Zelda replies. “We will find him in Hyrule Castle-”

Link suddenly sits up straight, and then writes with sudden ferocity. _I know him!_

Surprised, Zelda asks, “You do?”

Link nods enthusiastically. He writes _I was going to try and go home until I saw him. I don’t want him to end up like the boar._ And then he jumps to his feet, tugging his gauntlet back on and shoving the charcoal into one pocket, and dragging Zelda to her feet, before running for the forest exit.

“Link-”

The Great Deku Tree chuckles. “You’d best follow him, Princess.”

She nods, but Link is waiting for her, astride his horse again. He holds his hand out for her again, but once she’s astride he doesn’t immediately set off. Instead, he reaches for the little wooden board and his charcoal and writes _her name is Epona_ , and then pats his horse’s neck.

“A good name,” Zelda says, and she feels a little flicker of delight when Link smiles at her.

 

There’s a pounding at the gates. Hooves on cobblestone. His barrier parts – it’s torn suddenly asunder. A voice in the keep and the shriek of his Moblins as they’re slaughtered. A sword clatters against armour, and then the _twang_ of a bow.

He shifts on the throne, stirs. A smile slowly spreads across his face.

 _Zelda_.

 

Princess Zelda – or should he just call her Zelda now? She said they were meant for each other, didn’t she? He’ll have to ask later.

Anyway, she takes the bow from him, and when he kills one of the monsters, she takes a sword from its body too, and then they fight back to back, all the way up the spiralling stairs.

When they reach the top, she looks _happy_ , even though she isn’t smiling. But she’s more relaxed, and when they pause at the doors, she leans into Link’s shoulder readily enough.

Her eyes flutter briefly shut. “He’s inside,” she says. She looks at Link, and her expression changes again, not quite happy but not quite sad either, and she says, “You don’t have to accompany me, Link.”

Link shakes his head, and goes to open the doors. She stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and says, “I know you cannot- I may need to sing to him, Link.”

He doesn’t really get it, but it must be important, so Link nods and then pushes the doors open.

 

Ganondorf sits on her throne – he looks different. Unkempt; his hair, once neatly tied back, now hangs freely around his face, and his clothes are torn and tattered. He laughs, and the sound is cruel, mocking.

But his eyes are the worst.

Beside her, Link tenses and draws his sword.

Ganondorf just chuckles. “Is this what you’ve brought with you, Princess? A child?”

Zelda lifts her head. “He is no child.”

She sees Link raise his hand – and now the glow of his hand is bright enough to be almost blinding. It’s as if his gauntlet isn’t there at all, and on his throne, Ganondorf flinches.

But then his expression clears, and he laughs again. “Congratulations, Princess. Now, all three pieces of the Triforce are together!” He stands, and strides down from the dais, and he raises his hand too-

There is a flash, and then a golden triangle emerges from the back of Zelda’s hand, and from Link’s as well. He tries to catch his, but his fingers slip through it like it isn’t there, and they both float away, to hang in the centre of the room, and there, Ganondorf’s piece joins them.

“At last,” he breathes, and the light of madness burns intensely in his eyes, burns like the flames that have long haunted Zelda’s dreams. “At last.”

He reaches out to touch the Triforce.

 

An arrow grazes his fingers, and then Zelda appears between him and the Triforce, sword at the ready.

“You shall not touch it,” she says.

He sneers, and raises his hand to knock her aside. She slips under his guard, and her sword grazes his side, and isn’t this what he wanted? A _fight_? Except now the thought of it infuriates him – how _dare_ she? How dare she stand between him and his goal?

He draws his own sword, the sword his sisters – how long has it been since he thought of them? – pressed into his hands before he left, and on Zelda’s next strike, her sword locks with his.

“Get out of my way, _girl_ ,” he snarls.

“ _Never_ ,” Zelda promises, dancing away from him.

He summons magic to chase her, and their swords meet again and again, until Zelda’s arms tremble from the shock of every impact. “You cannot defeat me,” he says.

Her eyes narrow and she darts forward again – his sword grazes her check, leaving a bloody scratch, and hers pierces his armour. He roars and bats her aside, but she’s on her feet again in seconds, brushing the hair from her face, and doesn’t she look _magnificent_?

Fierce, and strong, and yes, she is the viper again, not afraid to bite.

But in their battle they have circled around, and now he stands between her and the Triforce. He sees the second she realises it, plain on her exquisite face.

“No,” she whispers.

“Yes,” he replies, smirking. “Hear me, Goddesses! I am Ganondorf, Voice of the Gerudo and King of the Desert! Listen to my wish!” He turns, reaching out and-

 

 _Tap_.

 

Link – Link who is innocent and naïve, who cannot speak and who has fought monsters even Zelda was afraid of, _Link_ , who held the Triforce of Courage – stands before Ganondorf, between him and the Triforce.

He looks small compared to Ganondorf, even smaller than usual, and his bare hand is pressed carefully against one corner of the Triforce. He cannot even know what he is doing, what he has done.

He’s just standing there, staring up at Ganondorf, eyes wide but unafraid.

“ _No_ ,” Ganondorf snarls, and it sounds like the word has been ripped from his throat, torn from it.

Link smiles, sweetly, and holds his hand out like an offering.

And suddenly, an urge comes across Zelda to sing.

 

He is frozen before the first note passes her lips – frozen from the second he saw the _boy’s_ hand upon the Triforce. He cannot find the strength to move, cannot find the breath to even _breathe_ , and then the boy smiles at him and holds out his bare hand, the one that touched the Triforce first.

He should crush it, Ganondorf thinks. Crush both of them, destroy them, rend them _limb from limb_ -

But Zelda begins to sing.

It is the song of his mothers and his sisters. The song of the Gerudo. It carries no words a Hylian would recognise, and it is the song they sing each and every night, as the sun dips below the horizon.

He thinks, vaguely, that his mothers were right. He does know.

His heart begins to race. He is singing back. Before him, the Triforce glows, brighter and brighter, and the boy- _Link, my name is Link_ – he’s singing too, even though he has no voice with which to speak.

 _How_ , he wants to ask, _how_ , but the song won’t allow it.

Zelda touches his shoulder. Her hand slips down his arm, and pauses over his hand. The birthmark doesn’t glow anymore, but it’s still plain to see, he notes, almost absently. Zelda slowly removes her glove, and she lays her hand over his – and before his eyes, her mark changes. Two triangles instead of one. He looks at Link, and Link shifts forward, to lay his hand over Zelda’s, and then it is _three_ \- the Triforce, whole and complete, plain to see on his hand.

The song ends.

 

Link rides on ahead of the others, urging Epona over a familiar hill. He grins, staring down at the village, and turns back to wave for everyone else to hurry up.

Zelda smiles and calls, “There’s no hurry,” while Gan – because Ganondorf is _too long_ , no matter what anyone else says – just huffs, and steers his horse around her.

Link pouts, and turns Epona in a tight circle, spinning them both around until Gan finally catches up and grabs Epona’s reins, tugging them out of Link’s hands.

“Stop that,” he admonishes. Link stands up in Epona’s stirrups and kisses him right on the nose. It makes Gan turn a funny colour, and makes Zelda laugh as she rides past them. “Don’t do that either,” Gan grumbles, but he doesn’t mean it, and he follows after Link as they all go down the hill.

Link only stops once, and that’s to whistle, loud and clear in the early morning.

Out in the fields, an old man pauses and starts to smile. Eventually, he whistles back.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot of production notes? oops
> 
> hhhh okay so. so. a while back i wrote a teensy [soulmate au thing](http://kratosaurioned.tumblr.com/post/92351499525/well-then-9-with-ganondorf-link-or-the-triforce-ot3)
> 
> the idea stuck with me, and i guess this is the result! a lot changed from the original - i read a lot of [corseque's](http://corseque.tumblr.com/) pretty amazing ganondorf + gerudo meta along the way
> 
> ganondorf's non-triforce birthmarks look [like this](http://greencladprince.tumblr.com/post/94794664380/remember-that-thing-about-birthmarks-being-your), and actually he looks a lot like this ganondorf too, just a bit older
> 
> i don't have specific ages for any of them, but ganondorf is about ten years older than zelda, and link is about three or four years younger than zelda. link is also like super short, in case you were wondering. he looks younger than he is.
> 
> link has never spoken; everyone in his village adapted to that pretty well, and they never questioned why. link has a way with animals.
> 
> it didn't come up in the fic, but [here's some extra details](http://kratosaurioned.tumblr.com/post/94995005950/i-need-to-get-some-ideas-down-somewhere-and-this), mostly about the whole soulmate thing - bonus! if the rito were present in this, they would grow feathers with their soulmates plumage (the rito would be a lot more colourful)
> 
> also as a bonus, soulmate _does not_ equal lover here. soulmates frequently _are_ , but very close friendships also occur, and sometimes parents and children can be soulmates. there's more of a focus on them in and immediately around hyrule, but in link's village, due to it having a much larger population of humans, they don't take as much notice of it.
> 
> Abēru is [sort of canon](http://zeldawiki.org/Aveil). her name was translated as Aveil in Majora's Mask. she isn't the leader of the Gerudo, although she is reasonably high ranking amongst them
> 
> if i were to set this in a canon timeline, this would be another branch where the hero of time prevented ganondorf from getting the triforce, but ganondorf was ultimately _not_ executed. he eventually died, and he, along with link and zelda, was reincarnated many years later.
> 
> the sword the deku tree gives link isn't the master sword - however, the deku tree did enchant it to offer link some protection.
> 
> due to how quickly the events proceed after beginning - it all takes place over the course of a few days - ganondorf isn't as powerful as most of his other incarnations, hence zelda being able to injure him in their battle. demise's curse also had to work a whole lot faster on him this time around, and even then it doesn't quite make it.
> 
> link wishes for "happiness"
> 
> (i'm sorry i have too much to say i'm gonna stop now)
> 
> EDIT: now with [fanart!](http://niccillustrates.tumblr.com/post/96008913132/i-need-these-dorks-to-interact-more-inspired-by)


End file.
